


Give Me Strength, Before You Break Me Into Nothing

by ProPinkist



Category: Tales of Berseria
Genre: Angst, Berseria's biggest flaw is that anyone who isn't Velvet or Phi or Eleanor, Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I probably should but idk what I'm doing ayyyye, and I wanted more from Artorius but the game didn't deliver s;ldkffklldf, but who knows how well i succeeded, don't have a ton of depth, if I need to tag some warnings here please let me know, just like so many others RIP, sad family feels and me trying to humanize artorius a little, so much angst here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 16:25:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11165607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProPinkist/pseuds/ProPinkist
Summary: Laphicet and Arthur share a broken moment together, days before the Advent.





	Give Me Strength, Before You Break Me Into Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> This is... a feels dump, and not sure how good of one it is. But. I tried. More explanation at the bottom, though hopefully the strange sort of conflicting feelings I was trying to get across is clear well enough (I can only hope lol).

It is the middle of the night, and the night he’s waiting for has to be soon, he knows. Laphicet wonders now if he’ll even make it that long.

His body is on fire, and yet a deep, terrifying coldness seeps all the way through his bones as well, the heaviness from the fever and the chill coursing through his veins leaving him breathless as he struggles to find warmth, to no avail. His head swims, and hurts, as the feeling of wanting to vomit that never actually amounts to anything lingers eternally, and Laphicet’s eyes blur from it all, as he squeezes the sheets helplessly in his fetal position, small moans and tears escaping as much as he futilely tries with all of his little strength to hold them back.

This began hours ago, when it was bedtime. Medicine never helps much to alleviate his symptoms on a normal day, and tonight, all of their most recent acquisition has done nothing, the village doctor already having come and gone with little else to offer in help, as usual. With how long it takes the merchants to come back and forth to Aball, and on top of that, how poor they are, more medicine will not be forthcoming tomorrow, or the next day, or the day after that, or for days after that.

He’ll die first, whether it be tonight, or on the Scarlet Night.

That isn’t to say that this hasn’t happened before, an episode this serious and crippling. But it’s so rare, and has never lasted this long, and even though a small part of Laphicet’s muddled mind knows that he’s too young yet to succumb, according to the rules of the illness, it’s hard to believe now that that won’t happen, with the cruel, cruel timing of it all.

_Is this my punishment? To die as a burden, just like I didn’t want to, so close to the day of my salvation? It can’t be an accident… Please, don’t take me yet! Just a few days more… just a little longer, then you can have me! I don’t want to die…… like this!_

His small sounds will bring Velvet back to him soon enough, Laphicet knows. There’s nothing more they can do at the moment to take away his pain entirely, but that won’t stop her from trying her hardest to, of course, despite how much they have tried and tried for so long now tonight to no avail. She loves and worries about him to death, and he is so, so grateful for her, but he wishes that she would spare some time and emotions for herself, as well. With always taking care of and fretting over him, hardly anything else ever truly occupies her thoughts… and right now, even though he isn’t all in his right mind, Laphicet can’t bear the thought of having to see her pained and grief-stricken face for the hundredth time that night as Velvet watches him struggle. She can’t help him, so the least she could do is try to gain a few hours of sleep for herself, even if sleep is hopeless for him (he’s so exhausted, and yet, too exhausted to sleep…).

In the very, very back of his mind, Laphicet’s childish side desperately wants her with him, though, if he really is about to die. …But, even more than that, he doesn’t want his beloved sister to have to see it as it happens, if it’s his fate now. …And he’s _not_ going to die. Not now, at least. If he dies without giving Velvet the world he wants for her, then he’ll never be able to forgive himself.

The sound of footsteps reaches his ears, barely. Laphicet readies himself for Velvet’s presence, as best he can.

“…Laphicet, can you hear me?”

The voice is definitely not that of his sister. For one, it’s not female, and it’s deeper… and it trembles in a different way from hers.

He turns onto his back again and away from the window, slowly, painfully, squeezing his eyes shut as the sudden movement brings forth another wave of lightheadedness, and Laphicet hears the sound of the person approaching his bedside. Once flat, he breathes heavily, clutching the blankets tightly around him and reaching his other hand up, watching the ceiling deliriously and waiting for the room’s new occupant to make himself known.

Soon enough, a broader, stronger hand clasps his own, and sky blue eyes framed by silver hair rapidly appear in front of his blurry vision.

“A-Ar…thur…?”

“Yes, it’s me; I’m right here, Laphicet, I’m right here… Dear lord, your hand is like ice.” The last part comes out more as a murmur, as the older man squeezes his hand and lowers theirs both to Laphicet’s stomach. He then lets go, reaching up to touch the side of his face, feeling his forehead lightly, and the worry lines in his expression deepen, his brow furrowing. After a moment of watching him, Arthur lets out a heavy sigh, letting go and standing up once again.

“…I’ll bring you another compress; I won’t be long.”

Laphicet vaguely watches him leave the room, his vision the slightest bit clearer, and even through his still-clouded thoughts, he remains lucid enough to slowly process his numb surprise at what just happened, as a cough forces its way into his throat.

Arthur had looked so… so _scared_.

Not only that, but it’s rare to see him taking care of him without Velvet there first and foremost as well, as it had been all evening. Their brother-in-law is often gone, as the oldest of who remains of their family, and the one who protects them from outside dangers and takes care of official business, as he always has. His sister is learning to fight under his guidance, and Laphicet knows she can fight well, but Arthur is still the strongest, and thus the busiest. He loves them both, of course – Laphicet has memories of the older man watching over him during his fever episodes on the rare occasion that Velvet couldn’t be around, and he has treated them both kindly, always –  but because his duties often keep him away, it has prevented the same level of closeness between him and them that connects him and his sister, he knows.

That’s not all there is to it, as well, Laphicet also knows, for he’s not stupid. Seven years ago, on that fateful night, something changed inside Arthur – broke inside of him – and ever since then, there’s been a wall in front of his heart that can never truly be removed again; a heaviness, a sadness, and an aloofness, a feeling of not being “all there”, that only two specific people could reverse.

But Celica is gone, and so is their child that Laphicet will never learn the name of. And so too is that Arthur of before.

He knows these observations aren’t his imagination. …The only proof he needs is that his brother-in-law wouldn’t have agreed to his request a few weeks ago otherwise.

It’s fine, though. Arthur wants this, and he wants this, and both know he would die in a year anyway if not now. At least with this, Laphicet can bring him some small amount of comfort, knowing that it’s what he wants, instead of leaving them both in a year, and with nothing _(he will give Arthur a purpose again now, instead of leaving him with nothing but more grief later, for if that is all he had, who knows what would happen? What if he, too, left Velvet behind in the same way as he would, but out of despair? Then she would have no one. At least, in this way, it’s **better**. It will hurt for her at first, but once she understands, understands that there was never any hope for him to begin with, and discovers that there was a benefit from his death, she’ll accept it too ~~… Won’t she?~~ )_.

For that to happen, though, he must get through tonight. …But Arthur’s unexpected appearance makes him falter somehow, makes his heart tremble in a way that frightens him.

He returns as Laphicet is still muddying through his thoughts, and he blinks, slowly registering his presence once again. Arthur moves beside him, placing the tin bowl of water he holds on the bedside table and wringing out the washrag inside it as best he can single-handed. As he lays it over Laphicet’s forehead, he shivers briefly at the cool touch, even as it soothes him somewhat after a moment despite how cold the rest of his body is. Arthur then pulls the blankets up higher, tucking them under his chin, and kneels down beside the bed, taking his hands in his once again. His eyelids droop slightly from tiredness, and the comforting feeling on his head, and Laphicet tries to focus on evening his breathing as his gaze shifts down his body, towards the sight of his hands in Arthur’s.

He can’t remember the last time he’s willingly held their hands. Perhaps only having one with which to do so feels discouraging, somehow.

But Laphicet likes how it feels. It’s warm, and strong, and comforting, and if he thinks too hard, he can imagine how fitting it would be to hold a newborn child, Arthur’s child, as Arthur holds him close to his body, lovingly and tenderly, with both arms, because he hasn’t lost one of them entirely on that horrible night in this dream, and then he hugs Celica later in a similarly loving and tender way, upon the realization that he’s become a father finally and truly hitting him, and he would smile, and laugh, and be so, so, _happy_ –

Laphicet almost gasps out loud, as he snaps out of his fever-induced vision. His eyes tear up slightly, and his body trembles, as do his hands, and he clings to the one holding his even tighter, even as he also wants nothing more than to let it go.

“W-Why are you here, A-Arthur?” he croaks out, his voice painfully weak. “Is… Is V-Velvet actually asleep?”

The other has stayed silent up until now, but at the question, he turns slightly to meet his eyes, his neutral expression softening a bit. “I… managed to convince her to let me take over for her. She’ll probably force herself to wake up eventually, but… for now, she needs the rest.”

Despite everything, something in his chest eases somewhat at the words. “I… I-I see… that’s good…”

Arthur hums in agreement quietly, his voice gentle and his eyes kind. “…How are you feeling? Any better?”

Laphicet bites his lip, staring at the ceiling again and trying to figure out how to answer. He’s still freezing, and the heaviness in his head and chest is still there, even though his mind itself feels clearer… as does his vision. His breathing seems a little easier than it had been earlier as well, though… He ponders his answer as hard as he can, if only so not to focus on how much hearing that particular question from this particular person _unnerves_ him so, since –

“…A l-little? Still not… great though…”

As if to prove him right, coughs erupt from his throat, and he fights for a few moments to get them under control again, his chest aching with the effort and his head swimming once again from the violent movements. Arthur says nothing in response after he finally finishes, and he can’t see his face to know if his expression has changed.

The silence that continues on afterward is almost more painful than his afflictions.

“…You know,” Arthur begins finally, to his relief, just when he feels as though he’s regained enough energy to say something to break the tense silence (what, he doesn’t know, but _something_ needed to be said). “Celica… used to sit by your bedside like this, too, for forever, whenever you were having a bad day.”

His voice is nostalgic, and sad, and lilting, and Laphicet wants to feel calmed, but instead his chest tightens even more than it already is, and he turns to look at Arthur blearily. He’s not looking at him, but across to the window, and his expression mirrors the tone in his words.

“You were so young then, of course… and so much frailer, and weaker. As you’ve grown, you’ve gained strength, I believe… so even though the illness was only in its beginning stages then, every bout of it was so hard on you… and it always made Celica so worried. Velvet worried too, of course, just as she does now, as did I, but Celica always made sure that she went out to play on her own, or sometimes with me, whenever the illness was at its worst. She would sit by you, without fail, watching… and praying… and doing whatever you needed from her, each and every instance of that. …And once you recovered, she was so happy, and Velvet was so happy… all of us, were so relieved.”

The way Arthur recounts the memories is so full of wistfulness, and a sad sort of happiness, and nostalgia, and as much as a part of Laphicet’s heavy mind doesn’t want to hear, another, more overwhelming part of him embraces it, practically desperately clings to the _gentleness_ and fondness and sheer _love_ he hears in the voice of his lone-gone sister’s husband, a kind of energy that they would never hear from Arthur unless they bring up memories of Celica to him themselves (and they never do that simply because it hurts, truly never bring her up at all except on the anniversary of their deaths, and if something leads them to the graves beside the house at any other time). It brings more tears to his eyes, to hear that happiness, and makes him terribly, utterly, heartbroken, for so many different reasons.

Laphicet can’t stop him.

“I… I wish… I-I could remember more about her… Everything from t-then is so… so fuzzy.”

“I’m sure it is,” Arthur says, quietly and sadly, and his eyes are so _kind_ and _gentle_ and Laphicet _wants_ this but at the same time it’s _unbearable_ – “She would take you both outside together when it was warm, and you would all play hide and seek in the forest… and she would have dragged me into it too, if she wasn’t relying on me to watch out for daemons and monsters.” He chuckles a little, and he’s still holding his gaze, eager to share his feelings with him, as well (It’s his way of coping, maybe, Laphicet thinks… and maybe they, or at least Velvet, should have talked about her more, in the past. Maybe it’s his way of trying to distract him now, as well, and if that’s the case, Laphicet can hardly blame him, can he?). “But we would pick apples together, and in the winter, she would play in the snow outside with Velvet, letting you join as well when she felt that you were healthy enough that day. …And on the coldest nights, we would sit in front of the fire, I with one of you on my lap, and the other in Celica’s, and she would read to us, until both of you fell asleep.”

His head is beginning to pound again, and his stomach twisting, but Laphicet continues to focus on Arthur’s voice, and his hand holding his, tears still in his closed eyes.

“Of course, I remember her famous quiches, too, the ones Velvet can make perfectly. …It seems silly, for it to be a recipe that is one of the things I remember the strongest about her… But it’s one of the main reasons Celica was so beloved in this village, and I understand why… They were divine. …And… And when she told me that we were going to have a child, oh god, I… I’ll never forget that day… Never forget… how happy I was, how happy we were… and how happy we were to tell Velvet, and how happy _she_ was, after she got over her initial shock, of course… She even tried to tell you, and I think you understood at least a bit of what we meant.”

There’s a pause, and Laphicet vaguely hears a sound that is not unlike a small sob.

“A-Arthur… Y-You don’t have to stay… s-stay here with me, if you’re tired… i-if it hurts… I’ll make it through.”

It’s almost more than his heart can take, and no matter what selfish reasons he may have for wanting him to leave (and at the same time, he _doesn’t want him to_ , oh how he doesn’t, because despite everything that will ideally happen, he loves this man just like he loves his sister, as his late sister loved him), Laphicet says the words for Arthur, as well, because there’s too much pain, too much grief, always has been, and he shouldn’t be forced to grieve over him, as well, shouldn’t have to think too hard about how, in one way or another, he is going to lose him, too, very soon; no, he mustn’t grow so much more attached now, otherwise when the time comes _he won’t be able to –_

_And if **his** resolve wavers, then how can **mine** hold steady?_

“…Laphicet… No, I promise, it’s – “

He can barely listen to Arthur’s words; his stomach is so pained and tight and his head feels like it’s made of lead. Laphicet opens and closes his eyes, neither of which help, and tries desperately to find the strength to sit up, the wave of nausea hitting him like bricks as he realizes what’s happening –

“Laphicet?! My god, you’re so pale –“

“A-Arthur… I-I-I need to sit up… help me… I think I’m gonna – “

The movement of his body is sudden, and rough, and before he can even process that it’s happened, his eyes blurring over, the next thing he knows he’s retching, gagging, his stomach heaving as his mouth empties everything that it’s needed to for hours now. It’s exhausting, and painful, and Laphicet keeps his eyes squeezed shut as his weak body is forced into overdrive, hacking and seizing in shuddering, forceful vomits and coughs. All the while, he can vaguely feel the presence of something half-behind him, half supporting him, relieving him of a little bit of strength required to keep himself sitting upright, and Laphicet is grateful, even as his body continues to force out what feels like a never-ending stream of everything it wants to get out, to such a degree that he’s certain has never happened before.

It feels like it stretches on endlessly (he doesn’t know how the noise doesn’t summon Velvet in, after how long it’s been; it sounded _so loud_ ), but finally, _mercifully,_ it ends. He feels like he’s run a marathon, and he sits there, gripping the edge of the bed as tightly as he can, his stomach aching, and his breaths still so heavy and pained and rapid, his shoulders rising and falling with the continued effort of trying to catch his breath, regain some energy. It isn’t long before Laphicet hears the sound of metal on wood and the creak of movement on the bed, and then feels the strong, warm, arm around his back, fully supporting him now, taking off all of his burden. Leaning back a little, ever-so-gratefully, he opens his eyes slowly, his eyes still blurred somewhat with tears from the effort, and from the illness itself.

“A…A-Arthur…?”

“I-I’m so sorry I couldn’t help more, i-if I hurt you,” – and his voice is so high-pitched with _fear_ , with _grief_ , and Laphicet can scarcely believe that the terrified expression he’s seeing right now is _real_ – “I had to hold the bowl, so I couldn’t hold you at the same time, I-I’m afraid… and I wasn’t quite fast enough… I’m sorry if I hurt you, Laphicet; god if I only had both arms again, I didn’t realize it could be such an inconvience, and so frustrating, damn it all…”

Blinking slowly, Laphicet vaguely moves his gaze downward to the floor, and he can just barely make out the sickly greenish-white spots there, and he knows that it’s not even close to all of what he just emptied from inside himself.

Somehow, seeing them, combined with Arthur’s words and the way he had spoken them, causes something to snap inside his heart.

“A-Arthur, I-I…”

He feels himself being leaned forward the slightest amount, and in the midst of his utter exhaustion and continued labored breathing, he sees Arthur in front of him, his hand on his shoulder to steady him, and in the back of his mind, the stupid, unimportant thought of _you’re standing in it…_ comes to him, but he can’t speak, tired and sad and weary and confused as he is… and the next thing Laphicet knows, he’s being pulled into a tight, almost painfully so, one-armed embrace.

“…I’m so sorry.”

The words are choked out as barely more than a whisper, and Laphicet gasps not even because of the pressure now on his chest, but because of the words themselves, and even more tears come to his eyes and begin to trickle down as he struggles to grip Arthur back.

“Arthur…? W-What…?”

“I-I’m sorry… I’m so _sorry_ Laphicet, for everything… I’m so sorry…!”

The dam has broken, and Arthur is _crying_ , and _full-fledged_ crying at that, and apologizing over and over and over as he holds and rubs him, and he sounds so _distraught_ and his voice so _hoarse_ and his grief so _intense,_ and Laphicet’s mind screams _no, this is exactly what I didn’t want, please don’t do this to me, not you, not **now** , I can’t take it!_, and yet it’s too late, and the dam breaks for him as well, and so he cries, as well. He can’t remember the last time he has cried, at least not to this degree, and for himself, but Arthur is sobbing his heart out and it’s something he’s never seen or heard before, not even right after Celica died, not this much, and so if _Arthur_ is crying, how can he not, as well? It’s strange, and foreign, and not like him at all, but the same could be said for him, as well: both of them have tried for so long to be strong, through their own pain, for Velvet as well, as she has for herself and them, and yet, Laphicet realizes now, it’s all too much. Everything is too much. Their sister should still be alive and with them, she should be _happy_ as a mother with her son, and _Arthur_ should be happy as a father with his son, and he and Velvet should be happy with the three of them, and he shouldn’t have been dying all his life, and he shouldn’t be dying _now_ , and he doesn’t _want_ to be dying _in less than a week_ –

“A-Arthur,” he chokes out for the hundredth time that night, his breaths ragged and sporadic from weakness and crying, grateful that Velvet _still_ miraculously isn’t here, to witness this, and he has been trying to stray strong all this time but he _can’t_ now, can’t lie anymore. “I… T-To tell you the truth, I-I’m s-scared… I-I’m s-scared to d-die… even t-though I s-said it h-had to be d-done…”

“Oh, I know, _I know_ , my child,” and Arthur’s voice is beyond describing as he cups the back of his head in his hand. “I know… I’m so sorry… If there was any other way, if I knew how to _save_ you, I-I wouldn’t… To ask such a thing of you is simply… it’s unfathomable. I’m s-sorry I can’t do anything, that I’m so _helpless_ , so _weak_!”

Laphicet’s heart clenches yet again, and he chokes out more sobs, holding onto his brother-in-law like a lifeline. He wants to say something like _I asked for it, so it’s not your fault_ , but he knows those are pathetically weak words; after all, whether he asked for it or not, Arthur is still doing the deed, he is still going to have to _kill his own relative_ , and a _child,_ no less, and the child who is the brother of the one he loved so dearly, and lost…

And what makes it even more difficult to say is of course the knowledge that, even just yesterday, Arthur expressed not even close to this amount of grief over what he’ll have to do at all.

Maybe this is just temporary. Maybe tomorrow, he will be back to normal. Laphicet can hardly comprehend if he wants that or not, for both of their sakes. But despite his fears, his reservations, at allowing himself to break down, and to the person who is going to _kill him_ no less, at the same time, hearing Arthur just as scared and upset as he is, and validating his heartbreak and anguish and terror, is so, _so,_ comforting, and a relief, and he hadn’t wanted _either_ of them to have to reach their breaking point like this, wanted both of them to be able to carry this out as detachedly as possible, for the sake of their emotions, but right now, Laphicet can’t help but think that this was inevitable, and that they both need this, too.

Because it’s cathartic, in a way, and Empyrean knows Arthur could use an outlet for all of the pain he keeps inside him at all times, letting no one else see (he has his malak, and she would be the only one he would share any of his secrets with, if anyone, but it’s not enough). The idea of the quiet, stoic man finally reaching his breaking point seems unfathomable, and yet, here they are, no matter how temporary it will be. Laphicet doesn’t know much of the man’s past, but he knows from the way Celica talked about him (or rather, from the things Velvet told him later that Celica told her) that he experienced many struggles, hardships, and losses even before meeting them. To have everything and everyone crumble and fall away under your fingertips, no matter how desperately you try to hold onto them, each and every time, for so long… it must be impossible not to fall into despair at your own helplessness, and Arthur’s grief is most certainly not just from Celica, but from years and years of suffering he has built up and locked away within his heart.

He could have finally, truly been happy with them. But that was taken away. And now, even more will be taken away from him, and his own beloved sister.

Laphicet knows that it’s either now or in a year, but even so, he feels so cruel.

“I-It’s okay, though,” he finally whimpers, feeling more energized now, and desperately trying to regain his resolve, the resolve that has wavered at seeing stoic, serious _Arthur_ waver. “It’s… It’s for V-Velvet, all for her and you. W-With this, everyone will become even stronger, and that means more people c-can get rid of daemons, like you, right A-Arthur? So… it’ll be safer for everyone… the world will be a happier place… And I… I’m r-really scared, but like I said, I’m more scared of d-dying slowly and painfully… with y-you both having to watch me go like t-that, like h-how you had to watch me t-tonight… At least… this way… it’ll be quicker… maybe I won’t e-even have time… to f-feel the p-pain.”

Laphicet lets out a sob, smiling a little as he hugs as tight as he can this man whom he loves like another father _(it doesn’t matter if he loved Celica most of all; that’s okay, he has given them enough love over these long years, as much as his heart could spare, and Laphicet knows that all of it has always been genuine, despite all of the troubles that plague his mind and heart)._

“Arthur… I’m sorry for burdening you with this… But p-please, make sure my death, Innominat’s a-awakening, is useful. M-Make sure Velvet isn’t entirely sad… let her see the g-good in this world, what else there is worth living for, outside of Aball. …And y-you too… please... please be happy… p-please continue to help people, as an exorcist. …My life with both of you, and with Celica too, before, w-was so happy and bright, despite my illness… I had so much fun. I-I want you to know that, no matter what… Thank you.”

_If only I could tell Velvet in the same way. But I can’t, not without her knowing my decision… and then she’d stop me. …But, I’ll make her know how I feel, somehow, even if just a little, before the time comes._

“…Laphicet… Oh, _Laphicet_ … Don’t thank me, oh please, don’t thank _me_ … I’m so sorry, for everything. …I-I love you. I love you both, I loved you all. T-Thank you… thank _you_ , as well, Laphicet… Thank you for accepting… someone as weak as I… into your humble family. Despite everything, I-I shall never forget that joy we had.”

He’s growing sleepy, finally, feeling himself finally regaining his normal strength and energy even as exhaustion simply from the ordeal still remains, but Arthur’s words startle him into awakening again, his eyes widening.

There is so much to say, Laphicet thinks, his heart aching and crying and _loving_ so much, and there will never be enough time, and he will never be able, to say it all.

_I wish I could have done so much more, but if I can’t… I’ll make it so that everyone else can, so that everyone can be free to live out their dreams, as happily as possible. That… makes me happy… and I can’t have any regrets, not truly, with the knowledge of how much I was loved, for all of my life, and everything I did get to discover… No matter how small, each and every moment was precious to me._

_…It’s still scary, but they give me courage. They always have._

“…I-I love you too, Arthur… I won’t forget either, no matter where I go, no matter what I become… ever.”

_I’ll live on, in them._

Time still remains before the Scarlet Night, and he will spend it with Velvet. …But, for now, tonight, Laphicet is content to cherish this moment, falling asleep in Arthur’s embrace, soaking up all of the warmth, comfort, empathy, and love that he provides while he is able to give it, before the end.

 

* * *

 

The promise he makes that night ends up being true, eventually, ironically, bittersweetly, after much that he expected to happen and much, much more that he did not (he was so naïve, of course, and made so many mistakes… but that’s what makes him human, just like everybody else, right?)… in the end, the person who is given his namesake achieves far more for his goal than he ever does.

As for his brother, well… he probably knew how things would go, then, deep down, despite everything. _Because_ of everything.

…At the very least, though, Laphicet is grateful that the Arthur in their eternal dream with them is happy, even if it’s not real.

**Author's Note:**

> basically I just have a lot of (probably unwarranted) Artorius feels lol... I don't really read him as that intentionally malicious like some of the other Tales antagonists (even Mithos seemed more hostile of his own choice to me, and his situation/motives are pretty close to Artorius'); he's definitely extremely cold, and obsessed with his goals, post-Laphicet sacrifice, but it felt to me like it all just came from Celica's death permanently screwing him up in the head and emotionally, misguiding him so much. I think he really did care about Velvet and Laphicet before then, but he was too far-gone to really come back from losing his wife; Melchior also pushed him further (thanks Melchior... not. Who knows how things would have gone if he hadn't been there then). I could see him having a moment where he would "snap back", so to speak, to the kinder person he once was, before reverting to his new self again, and so this was the idea for that. The fact that he's cray-cray doesn't absolve him of his douchey actions, of course, but still, I think his love for them at one point was genuine.
> 
> ......Berseria why you no give me the depth I wanted from him and 3059 other characters in this game. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
